C and G

Caroline worked so hard at music college
that she stopped coming to the pub with us.
We missed her badly at Quiz Night
when questions came up about Rachmaninov
and the works of Andrew Lloyd Webber.

We didn't even see her when she graduated;
too busy conducting the York Minster choir
and going out to Taiwanese restaurants
with celloists.
I'd given up hope of seeing her again

and then she turned up at a party
when I had a glass of whisky in each hand.
"I wrote a song for you" I slurred, and pulled a harmonica
from the inside pocket
of my suit.
I played for perhaps a minute, alternating
the only two chords I knew.
"C and G" she whispered, alarmed.
"my initials."